(S2) Episode 4: In All His Glory
by J. David Reed
Summary: On the hunt for Carltesque, the Doctor, Lussi and Clara have to find their final ally - someone with experience in body snatching. The Master, while looking for a cure to his life-threatening situation, is completely oblivious to this concept and lead the Doctor on a galaxy-wide scavenger hunt for the last piece of the puzzle. Cont. from Episode 3.
1. Chapter 1: The Blue Man

The unnamed, slack-faced reptilian-looking nurse stared up at him, trying to compute what the strange, glowing man had said to her.

'So... you used to be physical,' she said.

'Yes.'

'And now you're not.'

'Exactly.'

'And you want us to...'

'Put me back!'

'Put you back,' agreed, nodding. She slid a tired finger across a glass screen, looking at what practitioners they had in today. 'I'm afraid there aren't any medics on call tonight ho might be able to help you, sir. I'm not even sure they would be able to.'

'Well, why the hell not?'

'Because nothing like what you described had ever been done.'

'Must have been.'

'Creatures that elevate to ethereal and or non-corporeal status tend to want to be that way. No-one has ever... wanted to be 'put back', sir.'

'I'm not ethereal-'

'And or non-corporeal.'

'-whatever. I'm not. I'm on my way. I just want to be... reset. I'm still physical. Barely. Surely there's someone here who can-'

'I'm afraid not, sir.'

'But you're the High Inter-Planetary Surgery Bay. You're the best.'

'And highest voted.'

'There must be something.'

'There is no such existing procedure, sir.'

'Then... diagnose me. At least.'

'Well,' she said, moving her head from one shoulder to the other. 'Your face occasionally flashes, showing a blue, energy-ripe skull underneath. Is that normal in your species?'

'Nope.'

'Okay, well, that's probably one of the issues you face.'

'Is that a diagnosis?'

'Oh, you want a diagnosis?'

The man stopped, realising he was in completely the wrong place. 'I should go.'

'I would say,' the nurse continued, ignoring him. 'By saying that you're most likely degrading from physical to a pure-energy state. Very interesting. But there is no cure, sir.'

'None.'

'None known.'

The man turned to leave, his face flashing blue, as she called to him. 'You know, maybe you're looking for the wrong doctor!'

The blue man stopped in his tracks. His head dipped and flashed and he started to chuckle. Something sparked around his knuckles. He gave a breath that might have been laughter. Maybe not.

His skull, white under the blueish hue of his muscle and skin as it slowly turned from physical to ethereal, turned to meet the nurses eyes.

'What an incredibly unfortunate choice of words,' he said, smiling. Or, it could have just been the grin of his skull underneath a hellish pout that gave it that effect. 'A doctor, you say? I'm looking for the wrong type. What others are there?'

'Well,' the reptilian woman stuttered. 'You could always look for plastic surgeons. Old science now, but there might be a few floating around. Maybe try some more primitive planets.'

'...Looking like this.'

'Hmm?' the woman asked, staring at her desk. 'Well, you do look a little odd. They might think you a God. Big business, these days. If you have the nerve. It's pretty illegal, I hear, but you might get away with being a deity for a decade or two, let the indigenous species believe you to be all-powerful, give them the task of making you a host. Yadda-yadda.'

'You like you thought this out.'

'Do I?'

'Not any more.'

'Aww.'

'I'm leaving now, before you say anything else.'

True to his word, the blue man span and speed-walked away, making sure that even if she called after him, he wouldn't hear.

The port was built like a huge warehouse, with different medical opportunities having small rooms and huge waiting lists. As he stalked through, heading back to the exit, he passed at least three people who were looking at him funny.

He glanced down and saw that his hands, also blue, were starting to spark. He kept the emotions down easier these days, but it was getting easier, it seemed for these bursts to slip out. They didn't need hatred or anger or frustration anymore. Just an annoying nurse staring at a desk.

Turning a corner, he was terrified to see the face of the reptilian nurse staring at him, breaking his concentration and releasing a burst of blue lightning from his hands.

He quickly pulled his arms in as he lay on the floor, furiously staring up at the reptilian nurse.

She flickered.

'Is that a bloody hologram?' he yelled, turning heads. He took a moment to appreciate the fact that people in this kind of facility completely ignored the flashing of lightning indoors, but turned to stare at the word 'bloody'.

She stared at him for a second.

'Yes.'

'Right,' he muttered, standing up. 'Well. Why is it in my face?'

'You need to put down your name and psychic imprint. So we can contact you if needs be.'

'If needs be? What needs?'

'Well, if whatever procedure you're looking for is developed, we will contact you.'

'But you said it's not even a thing yet.'

'Yes.'

'So why would something that's not a thing not only suddenly become a thing, but also become a medical thing that is advanced enough to be readily practiced?!'

She blinked.

He breathed. 'My name is the Master. I will not give you my psychic imprint. If you want to contact me, just look up. I'll be waiting.'

'Really?' she asked, breathless in the romantic thought of it all.

'Of course not. Go away.'


	2. Chapter 2: The End of The End of Time

Lussi grinned as she exited the Doctor's TARDIS, in the way you grin when you get off a ride at an amusement park - happy, dizzy and looking for what comes next.

The Doctor followed, along with Clara, who both had to catch Lussi at one point.

'I was never good with the whole landing bit,' Lussi smiled. 'The throwing-around and falling and stuff, I'm good at that. Not landing.'

'You get used to it,' Clara said. She stopped herself. 'Did I just say that?'

The orange dirt under their feet told Clara they were back on Gug - that is to say, they were back on the moon that was actually a TARDIS that had another TARDIS stuck to the side... which is now gone.

'So Carl was hiding inside someone,' Lussi asked, looking for clarification.

'That's right.' The Doctor lead the two towards Simuss, who was standing out in the desert, seemingly doing nothing but waiting. 'He hid inside one of the tourists.'

'Why did you let him go?'

'We couldn't stop them,' Simuss said as they approached. 'Carltesque is clever. He was inside the body of a kidnapped, confused person who had been hooked up to a machine for God-knows how long. Do you know how hot it is out here?'

'Finish the thing!' Lussi demanded.

'Yes. Well. He made it look like we were the kidnappers. To avoid being taken by the Shadow Proclamation, we had to let them go. Meanwhile, the Doctor went off looking for you and your friend. What happened to him?'

'He... uh,' tried the Doctor. Lussi stepped in.

'He wasn't as nice as we thought. He was selfish, much like Carl. Wanted to own something that cannot be owned.'

'What's that?'

'Me. A person. I'm no slave to be traded around. I'm not property.'

'Absolutely. Couldn't have put it better myself.'

They stood in the bursting heat, unsure where to go next.

'This is awkward,' Clara said. Lussi nodded.

'I thought we were going to start looking for your friend... what was his name?'

'The Master,' The Doctor said.

'War,' Lussi said.'

Clara and Simuss exchanged looks of confusion, then Simuss opened his mouth to speak.

'In the War,' the Doctor interrupted. 'Lussi, Jaymse, the Master and myself were recruited. In a sense. We were forced to work for Rassilon, the Time Lord big-man. He threatened me with many many things, including the life of Susan and other family of mine.'

'Other family?' Clara asked, but she was ignored.

'Jaymse and Lussi joined the order or resistance or movement or whatever to get out, meanwhile plugging the hole Rassilon had opened whilst getting a message to the Master. When I was with the Master, however, outside of the War, we fought for the fate of Gallifrey. Eventually, the Master sacrificed his freedom and was sucked back into the Time War, along with the Time Lords, Rassilon and the planet itself. The Master and the me from the War then were forced to work for Rassilon, but I had a way to end it. End it all. I told the Master about it, and then he dissapeared.'

'That was us,' Lussi said, taking over. 'Once you told the Master about ending the War, he came to me and Jaymse and we told him we knew about a hole in the side of reality he had helped to make and he said we needed to shut it. But e also wanted to help you, Doctor.'

'He did?'

'He wanted to make sure the War ended. He'd been in it twice, you can understand why he wanted out. He decided we couldn't tell you anything about it, that we would dissapeare and help the movement while you carried out your task. You had to. There was no other way.'

'I know,' the Doctor said. 'But I was alone... I can't even.' His head started swimming. 'I can't even think about it straight. It's like my head isn't fitting with the memories. I'm not supposed to have them... what?'

'That's a mystery for another time, Doctor. We need to know where the Master would go now. What would you do with Freedom?'

'When we were in the War, when he was back in it, anyway, he was scarred. He was taken by Rassilon for a cure, but it needed up-keep.'

'What do you mean?'

'He died, and when he came back it didn't work properly. The idiot tried to Voldemort his way back, but it was only a segment of him. Made him a being of energy, blue lightning. He couldn't last that way. Rassilon stabilised him. Used him. Why do you think they called him 'War'? A man who could throw lightning.'

'So he would look for a cure,' Clara suggested. 'Wouldn't you?'

Simuss nodded, but the Doctor didn't look sure. Lussi was certain. 'He'd be looking,' she said.

'Which TARDIS do we take?' Simuss asked. 'Only the big one's needed here, we have the smaller one inside.'

'We'll take mine,' the Doctor said. 'He'll know what it means when he see's it, that way.'

The Doctor thought back to the last time he'd seen him. A lifetime ago. Literally. He remembered the look the Master gave him the moment the white light had enveloped the two of them. His face had been etched with hope. It seemed so misplaced, but it made sense. The Master, in that small moment, had hope. He had done something to save, not himself, but everyone else. He repented, he absolved, he apologised.

And that had given him hope for himself. That he could be something better.

To think he would go from that kind of hope to being used by Rassilon, blackmailed with his own life through the cure to his state, it made him feel sick.

But the Doctor wasn't sure. He wasn't convinced the Master would look for a cure. He didn't believe that his first thought would be life, in all honesty.

Maybe that was just the Doctor projecting. Maybe he was predicting.

The group made it's way back to the TARDIS, Clara still giving Lussi a hand as they climbed inside.

'Where to?' the Doctor asked.

'Well, what's space-science like?' Clara asked. 'Is it big guns and lasers, or hospitals and world peace?'

'Depends what world,' Simuss laughed. 'Earth is a mess. All the news channels died, and the world is covered in smoke. It's been a bad year there. But, if you head on to Mars, you've got a booming tourist and retail estate. Lovely this time of year, actually.'

'So, where would he know?' Lussi asked. It was a brilliant question - it wouldn't be where was best, but where would the Master actually want to go?

'Earth,' the Doctor offered, guessing. 'It was the last place he saw. The last world he tried to invade... twice. Maybe he'd go back.'

'To try a third time?' Simuss asked.

'No, he'd be looking for closure,' Clara said. 'He'd want to know what he'd saved.'

'True,' the Doctor agreed. 'But not yet. He would get a cure, then go back. And I'm guessing he hasn't got one yet.'

'But it's been hundreds of years,' Simuss reminded him.

'Has it?' Lussi asked.

'There isn't a cure, Simuss. It was fake.' The Doctor sighed. 'To stabilise, the Master needs energy, which he gets from eating. Sustenance is what Rassilon gave him. Fed him full, then wiped his memory. There isn't a cure.'

'So he would keep looking,' Clara said.

'He'd be getting frustrated, I bet,' Simuss added.

'He'd be getting dangerous,' the Doctor said, pushing a lever and heading off into the cosmos with no real destination. It just felt better to be flying.


	3. Chapter 3: Be Brave

Upon his dramatic exit from the tastefully disappointing Medical Bay, the Master found himself at a loss of where to go. There were no suggestions coming his way, his own mind was starving and his appetite was getting to the point where he knew he'd have to threaten some poor shop owner with a flash of scalding blue. It wasn't pretty, but to save himself from dying (and possibly exploding), it was for everyone's benefit, really. Plus, he really didn't want to see if he'd explode or not.

His ship wasn't a TARDIS - he'd ditched that long ago. It was a rust-bucket he'd picked up from a junk ship he'd hitchhiked on. It was an old piece of trash, but he was starting to enjoy it's nostalgic features. It even had a cup holder.

The TARDIS he'd stolen wasn't something he ever intended to keep hold of. It was dangerous, and if he died before he could hide it, who knows who the hell could have gotten hold of it. It was better just to put it on autopilot and point it at a sun. Job done.

The rustbucket wasn't particularly good at take-offs, but it was as good at take-offs as it was at anything, really.

He considered the nurses proposal, to go to some lowly planet and claim to be a God, teach them the sciences he knew and hope they came up with something better. But what kind of God can rely on his people if all they do is try to out-do him?

Instead, it seemed logical to go back to where it all started, but Gallifrey was gone. That was the point of all of this, letting the Doctor do his horrific job and getting out of the way. It was a self-serving plan, the Doctor knew. The group he'd been with, they claimed it was all 'sowing up the hole in the Universe', but he knew better. He knew people better. He knew that feeling, when you're told that you are going to die and there is nothing you can do to stop it. The plan was to escape, and have a side-effect that would work as a decent excuse as to justify it. They were all scared. Who wouldn't be?

Seeing as Gallifrey was gone, it seemed logical to go back to the nearest substitute. Earth. That was where the Doctor had found home all these years, although the Master struggled to see why. They were all bumbling, confused, horny apes who happened to look like Time Lords a bit. But it was enough.

Earlier on, it was the Doctor's hope for humanity, of making them better, that drove him to them. Again, the Master knew that that had changed these days. The Doctor saw what he had destroyed in them - his family. They were close enough to what he had before the war as to give him some escapism.

The Master found it nauseating, but where else was there to go?

And so he (literally) kicked the rustbucket into gear and listened endearingly to it as it staggered into life and pushed off the face of the floating Medical Bay.

The large, three-foot thick cyberglass gave the Master the most wonderful veiw of passing constellations. All around, pinpoints of white, glorious light, far-off enough to make them seem like fantasy, but close enough to touch. It was a beautiful sight. One he often didn't take enough time to consider.

'Right then,' he muttered, setting course for Earth into the controllers. It wasn't a time-machine, so he knew he wouldn't come out to see Earth as he had known it. Maybe it wouldn't even be there anymore. Nonetheless, he set sail for the Milky Way, for Sol. The closest place he had to home these days.

The trip was going to be long, even at the impressive speeds this old thing was able to reach - two or three days at least. Not exactly a trek, by any means, but it was longer than he was used to. A TARDIS could just shoot you anywhere - aim and fire. This involved waiting. Time.

Still, he supposed, it was a luxury to still have time. He'd spent centuries looking for some way of curing himself, but it was still surprising that he had centuries to spend. In the last days of the Time War, the Time Lords were looking to end Time itself.

'The Doctor must have done his job,' he mused. It was true, though, that the job was an unfair one. They had abandoned the Doctor with the sick, soul-ripping task of effectively murdering thousand of his own. At least, that' how the Doctor's conscience would process it. Murder. It wasn't murder, it was far more loving and compassionate than murder, but that wouldn't matter to him. The Master knew they had forced him to break his hearts. They were the ones at fault.

Maybe that's why he'd left almost as soon as they'd gotten out. He barely took a breath of peaceful air before he'd ran. Not that that was unusual for him. After all, it was the second time he'd managed to get out of the war. He had a knack for running. He shared that with the Doctor.

The Doctor, on the other hand, was fair more versed in the ways of running _at_ trouble, rather than away from it. When the Master was carrying out one of his self-serving schemes, it was always the Doctor resisting, trying to get him to see sense. He never did. Not until the last second, when he chose to be brave.

Courage didn't suit him, he decided.

He sat in the torn-leather swivel chair and put his foot up on the dash. It was going to be a long ride 'home', but at least it was beautiful outside. he had that to count on.

The Universe was never cruel, or fair. Never worried or stressed, nor was it complacent or apathetic. It was just beautiful.

Realising he had nothing more to do than stare outside, and that the Earth, even in it's current state, would likely give him no more of an answer than he already had, he slowed the throttle. No need to wear down the engines. Now it's take a week of sublime beauty to get their.

He wasn't busy.

The ride was slow and steady, the engine chugging away like some steampunk-enthusiast's wet dream, pouring out blue light and streamlined smoke into the eternal black that was space. The pod enclosing him was bare and rugged, with parts missing and parts replaced, leaving shiny plates next to alarmingly thin panels of the outer shell. It was a mess.

But it was his mess. And he loved it.

He hadn't loved anything in a while. Odd, that.

It felt good to have somewhere he could call his own, even if it didn't feel like home yet. He figured it might start to, if he stuck with it. He'd had a few ships between ditching the TARDIS and this peice of crap, but there was something about it being hopelessly scruffy yet still functional that made it the favourite. It was endearing, if irritating.

His foot slipped and snapped off the cup holder.

'Oh bloody hell.' The Master, crouching to pick it up, tried to recall if there was any glue anywhere abouts the ship. Glue was a rare commodity - one that Earthlings seemed to squander. He might have to pick some up while he was there.

And so he passed his week attempting to find somewhere to balance the broken plate of the cup-holder while he waited to pick up some glue, all the while staring at the stars. It wasn't a hard week, and it passed far quicker than you might guess. Before long, the Master was home.


	4. Chapter 4: A Stupid-Ass Decision

Clara was holding her breath.

'You look ridiculous,' Lussi said. Simuss nudged her, and Lussi shut up. Clara was being very brave.

'Now then,' the Doctor said, nodding to Clara as he put a helmet over her head, allowing her to breath. 'The vaccine will pass in a moment. That should do it.'

'Why don't we need one?' Lussi asked the Doctor, nudging Simuss, who also had a helmet on. 'Is it because we're Time Lords?'

'Well, just non-humans,' he said. 'Sorry guys. This is a little... unfortunate.'

'Unfortunate?!' Clara burst. 'We went looking for the Master and ended up in an experimental bio-warfare lab! Unfortunate?!'

'Well, all's well!' The Doctor laughed at Clara in the massive, glass helmet, then held his tongue when she punched him on the shoulder. 'That hurt more than it looked.'

'This is tedious,' Simuss decided. 'We've been looking around almost every scientifically-centered research base in the near galaxy. How much longer is this going to take?'

'Well, depends on how far he's gone.'

'And how long did he have?'

'A few hundred years,' the Doctor nodded, only now realising how futile this plan could be.

'Why don't we try Earth?' Clara asked. It had been a while since she'd been home, but that wasn't her main motivation. Since watching herself die, she'd enjoyed the slow-lane, and jumping back into the action-packed, death-defying adventures made her, not home-sick, but something else... she knew that Earth, in this timeframe, wouldn't be the same. At all. She was just curious, perhaps. She wanted to see what it was all heading towards. Where the world was going. All that technology, all that genius, what was the point?

'We can,' the Doctor said. 'But not with you, I'm afraid.'

'What?' Lussi cried out. 'That's stupid. She should be allowed to go home.'

'Allowed?' Simuss huffed. 'You try and stop her. The Doctor isn't denying permission, he'd never be able to. Right, Clara?'

'Damn straight,' she said, smirking. 'I'm coming, Doctor.'

'No, no you can't.'

'Why not?'

'Because, when I see him he might...'

'What?'

'Explode. Literally.'

'So this is a moral thing. Why are you taking those two then?'

'Who said I was?'

'You really think he's there, don't you,' Simuss nodded. 'All these places, it's been biding time. What for?'

'He needed time to get to Earth. The Master isn't in a Time Machine, he had to be able to get there in time.'

'But he's had hundreds of years, you said.'

'That's true...' he closed his eyes and braced for another punch. 'Except I know where he is.'

Clara aimed for his chest this time. 'Why didn't you tell us?!'

'He was in a ship, on his way down! I needed to give him time, while I lied to you and made sure I could tell you in a way that wouldn't upset you.'

Lussi, following Clara's lead, stepped up to the Doctor and, despite being at least a foot shorter than him, punched him straight across the jaw.

Simuss laughed. 'Well, you sure managed that!'

'Look, Clara, Lussi, Simuss... I can't risk any of you. You are my friends, very very good friends, but if the Master was to go nuclear there's nothing I could do to protect you. You know that.'

'I respect that the council has made a decision,' Lussi recited from a 21st-Century film Clara had shown her during a break from all of this chasing. 'But seeing as it's a stupid-ass decision, I have elected to ignore it.'

'You can't just ignore it,' the Doctor protested, starting to get irritated. 'I'm serious.'

'I'm not letting you sack us off, Doctor,' Clara said. 'I've been in the slow-lane for a while, it's about time I came with you into the face of possible death.'

'No, Clara-'

'This decision isn't yours. I'm going.'

And with that she stripped herself of the sterilisation-suit she'd been wearing for hours, and caught her own stench from the poison being forced out of her pores. 'I'm gonna go shower,' she said, slinking away.

'You know you can't stop her,' Simuss said. 'Doesn't matter what you say. You have no chance.'

The Doctor nodded, then sighed. 'Yeah, I know.'

Lussi nodded, then stepped up to the Doctor and looked him dead in the eye. 'YOu are a Doctor, correct?'

Surprised, he straightened up. 'Correct. Of sorts.'

'And you knew where the Master was. You knew how long we'd have to wait until he found Earth and stayed there.'

'It's all relative.'

'So you are a Doctor who knows fantastic, impossible things?'

'I suppose.'

'And yet you don't get that your friend wants to help you.'

'Wha... Clara can't-'

'You have no idea what people are made of. I killed my best friend because he thought he owned me. Who knows what Clara is willing to put herself in front of for you.'

'People shouldn't be putting themselves in front of anything for me.'

'But they are. I'm guessing they always have. Get over it, Doctor. You make people want to protect you. What do you think that's all about?'

'Well, I... I don't know.'

'You put people in these situations where it's either help you or sit it out. You two need a break. A holiday.'

'This was supposed to be one...'

'Yeah, well, look how that ended up. Thing is Doctor, as long as you plan on going on these stupid adventure, and as long as you have friends, they're going to want to come with you. Funny that.'

The Doctor laughed. It was small, but Lussi knew she'd got through to him. They were going to Earth to find a bomb of a man and convince him to help them. It was a stupid decision all round, but there wasn't any alternatives anyone could think of.

'Yeah,' the Doctor mused. 'Funny that.'


	5. Chapter 5: Arrr Destruction!

England had changed since he'd been in charge. It had seemed more fun back then. Less silver, less noise. Just as many people, though.

Since people started moving off-planet the population of Earth had plummeted to just under 9 billion, but the terraforming of the Arctic to make certain areas habitable had allowed whole new countries to become crippled under the inability to supply what the Human race demands.

It was a spaceport just outside Birmingham, the largest outside the uncomprehendingly congested London, and he parked it next to a rather large, red Cosmocarry (the leading brand in cross-galactic exporting, you know), so as to not forget where he'd parked. It was a big place.

As he exited the port, he headed for the tourist aisle - they always make you go past the shops on the way out - and saw a MegaDonalds. Damn. Now he was hungry.

And when he got hungry, it didn't end well.

Stability was something he'd found very difficult. He found it easy to relate to any mental illness, he had realised some decades ago. It didn't matter how ill you are, or how dangerous you are to yourself or any others, if they can't see it they don't care.

Like, if you walk into a shop with an arm falling off, people notice, they react, they call for an ambulance, take care of you, fix you up. You walk into a shop with a broken mind, even if you had a huge sign over your head telling people it was there, they'd give you a funny look and walk the other way. It's a stigma that has always existed, and probably always will.

And that's if they notice. Unless you tell people, the only time things like this come out is when it's too late. When things get so dire you can't cope - that's when people see the side you've been hiding. Then they react. With revulsion. Your illness is a problem to them, but not a problem they'd want to solve, one they'd have hidden away until they're too dead to have to cope with it.

Because of this, he made his way into the MegaDonalds, and proceeded to threaten the cashier with flickering lightning and some harsh words.

After getting some free meals, he threw away any upset faces he'd see with a terrifying glare he'd been practising for centuries, then silently chuckle to himself when people yelped and turned away, awkwardly shuffling through a crowd. He sat at a table close to the door, not to scare people a they came in, but for an easy escape if the authorities came. It was a huge place, and if he could stay quiet enough to let them pass by without realising, he could run out behind them and lightning his way off into the distance.

The food was crap. Full of grease and cheese and sauce and juice.

He loved it.

It felt as though his internal batteries were not only being filled up, but overflowing in greasy power, letting the energy pool around him. He frowned. He'd have to let some off to stay stable. It was good having the food - it kept him healthy, but he knew in his heart there was a cure. Some way of taking this lightning out of the equation. Then he could tear his way back into the war, remove his memories and go on as normal. That was the plan.

Not a great plan, ridding yourself of powers and then thrusting yourself into the heart of the Last Great Time War. But he had lived long enough, and - though he had no intentions of killing himself - he knew that he was only worth the same as all the innocents back on Gallifrey, not to mention all the worlds that died in the war. He shouldn't have an advantage. He didn't deserve it.

So he ate. And he kept threatening and eating until the energy was contained in batteries big enough to fit it. He rejoiced in it, feeling the power but also the control. It was where it should be; under his thumb.

But nothing lasts forever. Before long, he could hear the sirens and trumpets of the British Military, closing in on a terrorist threat.

Flipping up his hood, he stepped outside, hoping nobody would notice he was glowing blue a minute ago.

He looked completely normal.

Outside, however, there had already been a perimeter cordoned off.

'Stop where you are!' came a strong, authoritative voice from the military van just in front of the yellow tape. They never stop using that, apparently. 'This is a hostile situation. We have authority to shoot if you do not comply. Stop.'

The Master smiled, nice and wide for the news cameras. 'As you wish.'

'On the floor,' ordered the voice.

The Master sat, crossing his legs. He smiled again. 'Check!'

'Lie down.'

'Naughty thing,' he mused, lying on his back. He put his hands under his head and closed his eyes, listening to the sounds of confused and worried onlookers. 'Now, I don't want to be a bother, but it'll end up better if you just let me go.'

'You have demands?'

'Are you assuming I'm the terrorist?'

'What are your demands?'

'I didn't know it was a terror act to steal from MegaDonalds. Was it lightning? It's always the lightning.'

'We are sending in men to arrest you.'

'Bad idea,' the Master warned, his tone sharpening. 'Very bad.'

'Why is that?'

'Because I'm dangerous. And well, a bomb-' at the word 'bomb' he heard the gasps of every. Single. Person. There. He couldn't help but laugh. 'I'm a living bomb. Still want to get close?'

'Are you an android?'

'Nope. Not a mechanical or chemical bomb. An energy bomb, I suppose. I don't even know what'll happen if I regenerate. That'll be interesting...'

'Human?'

'Wrong again. Like I said, probably a good idea to let me go. I'm scary.'

'Name your species.'

'Arrr.'

'What is your species?'

'Growl?'

'What?'

'Oh. Nothing. Sorry. Erm, I have an idea - do you lot still have U.N.I.T? Call them. Tell them I want to talk to the Doctor.'

'Oh, this is nonsense,' came a new voice, and the Master's eyes opened.

'Hello deary,' the Master hummed.

'That's him?' he heard someone ask the Doctor as the group approached. A flick of the slightly-psychic paper and they were past the perimeter.

'That's him,' the Doctor said. He offered his hand.

The Master took it and bounced up, looking the Doctor up and down. 'You've changed.'

'You're made of lightning.'

'What's with the bowtie?'

'You robbed a MegaDonalds.'

'I was hungry.'

'I was expecting more, I'll be honest.'

'Well, I'm sorry I'm not always 'arrr I'm going to take over the Universe with an army of me! Arrr, lets hypnotise the human race! Arrr destruction! Death! I can have days off.'

'Six hundred years.'

'I got lost.'

The Doctor laughed and Clara, with no clue how to react, just watched in confusion.

'Hello Master,' the Doctor said.

'Hello Doctor.'


End file.
